


A Truth that Nobody Would Ever Hear (the Lonely Ghosts remix)

by arcadenemesis



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Keith (Voltron) just trying to cope, M/M, POV Second Person, Season/Series 03, Separations, Shiro (Voltron) in the Astral Plane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 08:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19127902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadenemesis/pseuds/arcadenemesis
Summary: There's a fear in you, worse than what you felt on Earth with the words "pilot error" rattling in your brain. In your most vulnerable moments, you almost think he's truly gone. But you always manage to wrench yourself back from that ledge. Because you can't fall prey to that thought, or it's over.Because if there is no Shiro, there is no universe to save.Keith hears a lost voice that might not just be his imagination.





	A Truth that Nobody Would Ever Hear (the Lonely Ghosts remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zjofierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/gifts).
  * Inspired by [He Was A Lonely Ghost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15822657) by [zjofierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose). 



> _"He was a lonely ghost, uttering a truth that nobody would ever hear. But so long as he uttered it, in some obscure way the continuity was not broken. It was not by making yourself heard but by staying sane that that you carried on the human heritage."_ \- Orwell

You think you might be going crazy.

A snap judgement, maybe, but it feels apt in more ways than one. It's said that the definition of insanity is repeating the same task, expecting different results, over and over and over again. And if the last few months are any indication, you're definitely ticking that box. You've inspected every inch of space junk ten times over, until their edges take perfect shape in your mind. You've flown light years in square miles of space. You look for a single trace, any sign, just in case there's something you've missed. The others tell you it's time to let go, to think of the bigger picture, that your routines and ticks and obsession is starting to scare them. But you'll keep searching forever if it means there's even the tiniest flicker of hope that Shiro might come back, sense be damned.

This, though, is a different kind of insanity.

It's much more clinical, in the sense that you think your mind might be collapsing in on itself, buckling under the pressure of the black hole by your side. Shiro was always good at holding you together. Now, your seams threaten to rip apart, and you're scared of what might burst through the apertures left behind.

It starts at dinner, after another failed attempt to track down Lotor and his Generals. The others are in good enough spirits, at least. Even if the team feels a little fractured this early into their new line-up, they find a way to fall back on one another on those tough days. At least, that's what you see anyway. You have felt split apart from them entirely since the Black Lion forced your hand and reached to tether you to a bond you never wanted. Like a cursed deity, hovering above the situation, watching everything. All alone, in spite of the company surrounding you.

When the lights flicker, no one does anything more than give a cursory glance to the ceiling. She's an old ship, this Castle—bound to have a few little quirks and kinks in her. You, though… you feel a chill skitter over your skin, see the hairs on your arms stand to attention. In your chest, your heart thuds a little more insistently in warning. Chasing Lotor probably has you all keyed up, you suppose, but there's a feeling that sits uneasy with you, begging you to consider another possibility. The all too familiar swoop of paranoia in your gut is nothing new these days though, and when the lights flicker again, you simply hunch in on yourself and stare into your bowl of green alien goo.

"You should look into getting that fixed," you mutter to Coran when you decide to rise and abandon any thought of eating.

Things… seem to go right for the team after that. Not in the sense that you make any progress with your increasingly fruitless goose chases for Galra Princes—but life on the Castle Ship seems to be a little easier for everyone.

Well, _nearly_ everyone, anyway.

Hunk finally seems to have mastered the ship's ovens down to a fine art. Not that you can taste much of anything these days. But it's remarkable what a few fresh baked goods do for morale for the team. You might only be existing, holding on by a thread to the thought of finishing what Shiro started, but it's good to see the team bonding, even if you stay standing on the edges of the room.

Sometimes that's the only thing that keeps you going—the thought that that's what Shiro would want. In the back of your mind though, the search for him never ends. Every night, you mull over the mental corkboard you have stowed away for him, trace the red strings to the evidence and theories you've gathered. But nothing ever lines up, and you feel as lost as ever.

There's a lift in the team, bigger than anything warm cookies and colourful treats could accomplish. It pulls you further away from them; while they move on, you only feel like you're swimming backwards against a riptide that wants to sweep you out into the dark, lonely sea.

It's not fair, you think. Shiro deserves to be more than a fleeting memory. A little seed of resentment sews itself inside you, and you want to crush it, but it's already sprouting in the gap between your third and fourth rib, eager to wrap around your lungs and bury its roots. It's all too easy to become cold, focused, to turn into a husk while your insides twist and rot. Hunk seems less frazzled, Pidge better rested, Lance a lot more organised—dare you even say, moderately reliable. But you still stay the same: lost, grieving, without Shiro.

There's a fear in you, worse than what you felt on Earth with the words "pilot error" rattling in your brain. In your most vulnerable moments, you almost think he's truly gone. But you always manage to wrench yourself back from that ledge. Because you can't fall prey to that thought, or it's over.

Because if there is no Shiro, there is no universe to save.

Routine staves off your mania, making it a little easier to ignore the monsters screaming at the door. Wake, eat, train, sleep, repeat. Sometimes forget to eat. Sometimes forget to sleep. But training— _fighting_ —is always a certainty. The ache in your body dulls the ache in your heart, and the mindless slash, punch, dodge and parry is almost meditative. Losing time on the training deck is frighteningly easy.

Sometimes you slip into a state where you can envision Shiro is beside you, coaching you through your movements.

"Widen your stance."

So you plant your feet a little further apart.

"Hands up. You're leaving yourself open."

"Adjust your grip."

"Stop lifting your chin when you strike."

It's almost calming, but then it starts to follow you everywhere. You can't even remember the last time you had a thought that wasn't intoned in his sweet, low voice.

"You haven't eaten all day. You need to keep your energy up."

You open your mouth to argue, but then you remember: there's no one there. Just you and your delusions that grow louder and louder with every passing day. Frowning, you sheath your knife and stand to cobble together something resembling a meal. There's no point in arguing with the voices in your head.

The construct you've created doesn't stop at sparring advice and mealtime reminders. You hear Shiro scold you when your eyes itch with weariness, hear him tell you to ask Coran about a planet you missed on the ship's maps at first glance, listen when he suggests the team needs a break.

By this stage, the voice is like a separate entity to you; a subconscious mentor that steps in when you feel like shutting down. You forget just what it was like to think in your own voice—if you even ever did such things before. Still, there are worse things to do to cope. You don't think you're losing your mind just yet.

"You were a great leader today. You might not think so now, but you were always destined for this. I'm so proud of who you've become, Keith."

It makes you stop dead in the hallway, helmet almost falling from your grip. It's painful to hear it in his voice, gripping tight to your heart. But more than that, you feel terror pool in your belly and spread cold through your veins.

Because you would never, _never_ think that to yourself.

The only solution you see is to half-sprint back to your quarters, ignoring how your fingers tremble on the access pad. You're probably just exhausted. Delirious.

Except, that's only the beginning of it all. You hear Shiro's voice far more often, and it's never just the words of a mentor. You hear him reading the words on your holopad when you lie in bed, listen to him tell your stories—ones you've never heard before—when you find yourself alone. But just when you start to think you can't stand a second more, it goes quiet, and somehow that's worse. More than once, you have let out a relieved breath when his voice returns. It's a comfort you've come to rely on. You wonder if maybe you should talk to Coran or Allura, tell them the tricks your mind is playing on you, but you worry maybe they'll try to fix you. The last thing you want is him gone.

Sometimes you can even picture him beside you, a hand on your shoulder when you stand on the bridge alone, or sitting beside you on the floor as you count out your stretches...

… Curled around you when you lie in bed. That's the dangerous one. Sometimes you wake from nightmares with tears on your cheek and the feeling of gentle fingers trying in earnest to brush them away.

With the mirage of touch firmly planted into this mechanism of yours, it instils a greater terror in you when his voice disappears. It's not just silence, you feel cold down to the bone until he returns, and you don't know how to relax without his words, don't know peace unless you feel him beside you. His presence is a balm.

Until it's not.

It catches you unaware, just as you arrive in your quarters to sleep. Silence, and then a heavy clang that knocks you off centre. Something pressing down on your psyche, bringing you to your knees. A gasp tears its way out your throat, but it's impossible to draw oxygen in. You're stuck in a vacuum where reality and the beyond bleed and it strikes like a sledgehammer at your glass mind, shattering everything. The universe sucks you through space and time and existence itself and spits you out on your bedroom floor, leaving you heaving in its wake. You curl in on yourself, gripping at your skull as despair crawls its way under your skin. It's as puzzling as it is terrifying; the sudden onset making the experience all the more jarring. Maybe you really are breaking now. Today was just another day like yesterday, still just as desperate to find Shiro, still just as burdened by his absence. But maybe it was the last drop that has overfilled your cup. A cup that that is spilling gasoline at your feet, ready to ignite.

You want to scream, but hear a sob instead. It doesn't come from you—you know that much. Your jaw feels wired shut in the grip of your psychosis. It _can't_ be you. But you think you recognise that pitch, know that uneven breathing. The sound disappears just as all the warmth rips itself out of the room and the weight on your head and shoulders suddenly lifts. You blink away tears, searching for something you know is gone.

"Shiro?..."

His presence comes and goes at less frequent intervals after that, and you know it's crazy but you cling to the notion that it's really him. He doesn't let you break again, but sometimes you wish he would. It's an agony, but you would gladly embrace it for him, if only to have him a little longer.

You think you might be going crazy, but you surrender wholeheartedly to it.

You listen— _really_ listen—when you hear his voice in your ear, cling to every word he has for you. You sink into the feeling of arms around your waist and a body curled around yours in the middle of the night.

"I'm a lonely ghost," he tells you when he thinks you're asleep. "I'm sorry."

And it makes you squeeze your eyes tight and press a hand to your centre, wishing you would find another there with fingers to entwine.

"I don't want to go," Shiro whispers, voice trembling in your ear. "I hope you're keeping warm."

It's instinctual to turn over to wrap an arm around him. You only meet an empty space beside you, but you speak anyway.

"Stay."

It's a plea, a confession. Still, the warmth fades. You don't think he can stop it.

"I love you," you whisper, uttering a truth that nobody would ever hear.

"I'm going to find you, Shiro."

**Author's Note:**

> I was so lucky to draw [Zjofierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose) in this year's [Sheith Remix](https://twitter.com/sheithremix). Zjo has an incredible library of thought-provoking and fluid fics, many much longer than this one, but when I first read [He Was a Lonely Ghost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15822657), I was just so drawn to the concept of Shiro being present after his death at the end of season 2, that I couldn't focus on anything else. There were so many ways I could have remixed this, and following Shiro after the arrival of Kuron was almost the path I took, but in the end, I couldn't resist a classic POV switch... with a twist.
> 
> Writing Keith in second person just made this feel really personal to me, and I hope it captures the essence of Zjo's original fic, which is visceral and heartbreaking and truly worth a read.
> 
> I hope you like this Zjo! It was an honour remixing for you. ❤️
> 
> You can catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/copilotsheith) and [tumblr](https://copilotsheith.tumblr.com)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] A Truth that Nobody Would Ever Hear (the Lonely Ghosts remix) by arcadenemesis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21881056) by [taikodragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taikodragon/pseuds/taikodragon)




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